For Old Persons

How glad and happy may I be,
And carol forth a song of praise,
For that so near at hand I see
The wished harvest of my days:
Mine aged years to me do show
What I in youth could never view,
And fading sense instructs me more
Than perfect senses heretofore.

Right blest am I that I have past
The perils of those youthful times,
Which we in fruitless follies waste,
Or, which is worse, in heinous crimes;
From jealous loves, from lustful foes,
From raging fits, from loose desires,
Which heretofore tormented me,
I now am hopeful to be free.

O Lord! vouchsafe it may be so,
In me let youthful folly cease;
As I in years more aged grow,
Let virtue more and more increase;
Let all my passions me become,
And their base fondness keep me from,
Who youthful pleasures dote upon,
When pleasing youth and strength is gone.

These jolly times which most men praise,
And sorrow when they pass away,
Increase my torments many ways,
And perils in my path did lay;
Yea, but for Thy assisting grace,
I had been ruin'd in that race;
And therefore, now I praise Thy name,
That I have overlived the same.

As did Lot's wife let not my heart
Unto that Sodom of mine age,
Look back as loath it should depart,
Nor thereunto my soul engage;
But make these times as loathed of me,
As aged years of wantons be;
That grace in me may ev'ry day,
Increase as flesh and blood decay.

Forbid Thou then that when I've spent
My lust and love to youthful sin,
I should make semblance to repent,
And other follies then begin:
At youth's escapes let me not rail,
Because that way my strength doth fail,
Yet practise, whilst I them gainsay,
Worse evils in a graver way.

Let me not change my vain excess
Into an oversparing mind,
Nor in old age grow merciless,
Because my youth was ever kind:
Nor let me love, as many do,
To make vain brags, with lying too,
Of youthful tricks now I am old,
Which are not seemly to be told.

But such let my endeavours be
As may my place and years beseem,
That youth may good example see,
And age continue my esteem;
For when a comely part we play,
It keeps in age contempt away;
And though but weak our bodies are,
Our looks will keep strong men in fear.

As this my carnal robe grows old,
Soil'd, rent, and worn by length of years,
Let me on that by faith lay hold
Which man in life immortal wears:
So sanctify my days behind,
So let my manners be refined,
That when my soul and flesh must part,
There lurk no terrors in my heart.

So shall my rest be safe and sweet,
When I am lodged in my grave;
And when my soul and body meet,
A joyful meeting they shall have;
Their essence then shall be divine,
This muddy flesh will star-like shine,
And God shall that fresh youth restore
Which will abide for evermore.